


thin paper wings

by unwoundfloors



Category: Spooks
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwoundfloors/pseuds/unwoundfloors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sharing is caring," she manages with a sweet smile. "Didn't your parents ever teach you that?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	thin paper wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daygloparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daygloparker/gifts).



After the events of the day, Zaf finds himself utterly unable to sleep. It is 1AM and he has now spent over two hours staring up at the ceiling. Havensworth is whirling through his mind, flashes of awful imagery. Gabriel Sekoa - how badly they had misjudged him in the beginning, how terrifying his true motives had been. Michelle Lopez, holding that gun, glinting in the lightbulb flashes from the photographers at the press conference. The way her body had crumpled underneath the force of that sniper's bullets, Adam's anguished howl as she crumpled like a doll and bled out on the marble floors.

He throws off his blankets and gets out of bed. There's no use lying in bed, sleepless and feeling sorry for himself, he thinks, might as well do something productive.

He is surprised to find Jo sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, nursing one of his beers.

"Hey," he says. "I paid for those. Drink your own booze."

She looks up. Her eyes are ringed with mascara she hasn't yet washed off.

"Sharing is caring," she manages with a sweet smile. "Didn't your parents ever teach you that?"

He grins in response. "My big brother was all about stealing my things. Sharing is caring, my arse."

"So you should be more than used to people taking your things then, right?" Her eyes are angelic but her smirk is anything but.

"I surrender," he says, making his way to the fridge to grab one, too. Maybe a drink would knock him out. "Have you got the bottle opener? Why are you still awake, anyway?" He carefully maneuvers himself onto the counter next to her, and she passes the opener over to him.

Jo sighs, looking down again and shifting her bare legs so that they hang over the counter. "You worked for MI6 before you joined Section D, didn't you?" she asks, knocking her feet rhythmically against the wood panelling. Her hair, which now hangs down to her chin, messy and loose, looks like a halo of silver, backlit by the full moon visible through the window. She's dressed in a thin, worn grey tanktop, strap just beginning to fall gently over her shoulder, and a pair of silk shorts. Her bare legs look temptingly lean and long in the half-light—

"Yeah," he says, simply.

She sighs, leaning back. "Is it always this awful, Zaf?"

Oh, he thinks, that's what this is about. He takes another swig from his beer, deep in thought. Poor Jo - he sometimes forgot she was much, much newer to this than the rest of them were. She'd only been with them for six or so months, now - a long six months, fraught with awful circumstances and nightmarish situations.

"It's bloody hard, this job," he says, honestly. "And I don't think you ever get used to it - not without losing sight of made you join the service, in the first place, and that's a good thing. It's what keeps you doing it. Christ, even Ros - I'm pretty sure she's got a heart underneath her Terminator skin. Mind you, I could be wrong."

That gets a laugh out of Jo, he is pleased to note. He goes on. "Look, the idiots they've got running Tring? Those psychologists with their big couches and notebooks and ncie questions and everything? They have no idea what it's like to be us. Don't be afraid to talk to me about it, okay? I _do_ know what it's like, and I care."

She turns her head towards him, making eye contact, eyes wide and beautiful. She's about to say something when - he can't help himself. Before he knows it, his fingers are running through her hair and his mouth is on hers, if only for a brief moment. He feels her go still for a moment, in surprise - and then she leans in closer

He pulls away, quickly, unsure of what he's just done, heart beating wildly in his ears. _Oh god, oh god, oh god,_ he thinks - _shit._

But there's a faint trace of a smile on her parted lips, and she runs her thumb over his mouth. "Thanks, Zaf. Really." She hops off the counter, leaving an empty bottle behind her. "Come on. Promise I'll even let you have some of the blankets."

It's nice to realise she'll never stop being able to surprise him, he thinks, with a grin.

\--

i tried funny, i really did. i'm just kind of incredibly lame, is all. unbetaed. title from underworld's 'juanita/kiteless/to dream of love'. hope this wasn't too appallingly bad!


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